Voodoo and Witches
by Evil Gal Pearl
Summary: In the back of his mind, he always knew something like this would happen.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own Albino Alligator or any of the characters or other things associated with it. I don't intend to make any money from this.

**Author's Note****: **If you are planning to review, please read my profile first. Also, if I continue this story the rating will change. K only applies to the first chapter.

**Voodoo and Witches**

"Dova Perone?"

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Officer Antones, police department. We have Lawrence Alston in custody. He asked us to give you a call, as he forfeited his phone privileges when he spat on one of the officers who brought him in."

"What, he's been arrested? What for?"

"Assault. He allegedly punched a co-worker. The guy agreed not to press charges, so we're just keeping Alston here overnight. He'll be free to go at 9am tomorrow."

"Alright. Thanks", Dova said, and hung up.

"What's wrong?" Milo asked, looking up from his book as Dova came back into the living room.

"Law got himself arrested. He's spending the night in jail." He filled Milo in on what few details he had gotten.

Milo took a deep breath, then said uncertainly, "It's just one night. How bad could it be?"

"You're probably right. Nothing to worry about. I'll make dinner. What do you want?"

There was plenty to worry about, of course. Law was terrified of jail. He got tense and jumpy just hearing the word. And then there was what it did for his temper. He was never a very stable person to be around, and anything that upset him increased the risks exponentially.

On top of that, this was the seventh job Law had gotten fired from in as many months. The unemployment agency kept placing him in a new job three weeks after he got fired from the previous one, like clockwork. Law really did try to make these jobs work, at least Dova thought he did. But his temper always got the better of him. In the past seven months, the longest he had held any one job was eleven days.

At least this was the first time he'd actually gotten violent at work. But that worried Dova, too. What if this became part of the pattern? He was damn lucky it was only one night in jail this time. Next time it could be a few months. And if that happened, Dova didn't think he'd be even marginally safe around anyone when he got out.

Unused to cooking, he burned the food onto the pan. Milo smelled it and came into the kitchen. Trying to lighten the mood, he glanced at the mostly black stuff in the pan and gave Dova an amused look. "I knew letting you cook was a bad idea. I bet _Law_ coulda done better than _that_." They both laughed at that image, and Milo set about cleaning up while Dova ordered a pizza.

Too soon, the good humor was again drowned by apprehension. Most of the pizza got put in the fridge and Milo muttered something about having a headache and went to his room. Dova eventually fell asleep on the couch. Troubled by disturbing dreams, he woke several times and remembered only a feeling of dread.

Around 6am he got up and went to his bedroom to change his clothes and brush his hair. The whole morning felt somehow heavy and ominous. Probably just those weird, messed-up dreams. He shaved and showered and brushed his teeth and then headed down the hall to his brother's room. There he paused, listening to the quiet sounds of breathing as Milo slept.

He wanted to wake him. He still felt uneasy, and Milo was generally so sensible and pragmatic that it would only take him a few minutes to convince Dova how ridiculous his fears were. Besides, Milo would make breakfast when he got up. On the other hand, Milo worked the 9am-6pm shift at the paper mill. He didn't need to get up for another hour. Reluctantly, Dova turned away and headed for the kitchen alone. He could at least make some coffee and toast.

An eternity later, he heard doors opening and closing and the shower running. Grinning he put aside the magazine he'd been staring through and waited, drumming his fingers on the table.

Milo paused in the door and smiled. "Morning, Dova. The world hasn't exploded, and no demons appeared last night to feast on our souls. All in all, it's a promising start to the day."

And just like that, his fears did seem foolish. If they'd been sisters instead of brothers, he would have hugged Milo. Instead, he nodded in mock seriousness and said, "Yes, another successful night in the town of voodoo and witches."

"I guess I'm cooking, huh?"

"Smart guy."

Breakfast was great. Milo was no five-star chef, but he did a fine job on the basics. Every morning the three of them ate together, and while the conversation was less civil when Law was present, it was no less friendly. If Law could be said to have a good time of day, it was morning; the sniping never went beyond amiable banter during breakfast.

When the dishes were stacked in the sink, Milo headed out to catch the bus that would take him to work. The only vehicle they had between them was the old Ford truck, and that was Law's. Dova drove it when he needed to, but Milo never did. It was a hassle to drive in the city, anyway.

Law always drove to work, because he didn't like being surrounded by people on the bus. Dova thought that was a very good thing, actually.

He considered washing the dishes, decided he didn't have time, and grabbed his set of keys and wallet. Belatedly, he wondered which bus went by the jail. And just how messed up was Law likely to be? Would it be safe to take him on a bus? Maybe he should get the truck first and pick him up in that. Which bus went closest to where Law had worked until yesterday? For that matter, where had he been working? This changed so frequently that Dova had lost track.

After finding Law's account number, calling the bank to ask them what company signed his paychecks, and checking the bus schedules, Dova finally started out to get the truck. It was just after 9am.


	2. Chapter 2

Dova got to the jail by 10am. He parked the truck as close to the doors as he could. Then he took a deep breath, mentally bracing himself. _Quit being such a sissy. He'll probably be lounging around seeing how much he can intimidate the officers just by looking at them. Bored and annoyed that you're late, nothing more than that._ He irrationally wished he'd brought Milo with him. Of course, that would be just about the most irresponsible thing he could have done, but he didn't want to go in there alone.

_God hates a coward._ And with that thought he resolutely got out of the truck, locked it, and headed for the building. Halfway there, he hurried back to make sure he'd really locked the truck. He had. Rolling his eyes, Dova entered the station.

"Hi. Dova Perone. I'm here to get Law Alston."

The neat, smartly dressed receptionist heaved some sort of huge book up onto the shiny desk and began slowly paging through it, searching for news on Law. Dova thought she looked a little ridiculous. They couldn't possibly have that many prisoners here. It was strictly a drunk tank and holding area kind of place. That friggin' thing was thicker than his phone book. Not to mention the perfectly good computer, humming quietly a few inches away.

Finally she looked up and said, with a polite little smile, "Mr. Alston was released at 9am this morning."

Dova silently counted to ten before saying slowly, "Yes. I'm here to get him. Would you please have someone bring him out?"

"He's gone, sir. He left at 9am this morning."

Shit. "Are you sure? He was supposed to wait for me. You're sure he left?"

"Says so right here."

Oh, this was bad. Law was wandering around somewhere in New Orleans, on edge and in a bad mood. This had trouble written all over it.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No, sir."

Dova left without another word, feeling confused and worried and angry at those idiots at the so-called police station. It didn't take a genius to see that Law wasn't quite right. If somebody said they were coming to get someone like that, you didn't just let him go by himself because the person was a little late. Not if you had half a brain, you didn't.

Suddenly he stopped. It had occurred to him Law might still be here, sitting on one of the benches around the brick walls and waiting. And here he was, about to drive away! He began walking around the building, barely resisting the impulse to call for him. That was how you looked for a lost dog or cat, and if Law heard him doing that he might leave out of pique.

He made three circuits of the building before admitting to himself that Law wasn't going to materialize from behind a tree, impatient to leave. Walking back to the truck, he tried to decide where to search first. Law might have simply gone home. Or he might be at the bar they went to most often. Or he might have gone to look for his truck. Dova considered that the worst of the possibilities. The guy he'd punched yesterday probably wouldn't get off so lightly if Law ran into him again today.

He offered up a silent prayer, believing there must be some kind of being that would hear it in a place like New Orleans. Then he steered the truck out into the traffic and headed for home.

He actually found Law a lot sooner than he'd dared hope. He was stopped at a light and tapping his fingers nervously on the wheel when the passenger side door opened. Dova nearly jumped out of his skin. His foot knocked into the gas pedal. The truck, whose engine Law maintained almost obsessively, leapt forward. Eyes wide in horror, Dova sped through the intersection. Horns blared and Dova and all his ancestors were reviled in English, French, and other less identifiable languages. He saw a truck bearing down on him and spun the wheel, shutting his eyes tightly. Somehow he got past it, and when he opened his eyes he was through the intersection. He pulled over and carefully turned off the engine before slumping dazedly against the wheel.

He sat there and wondered what the hell had happened and what he was going to tell the cops and whether he was going to have a license this time tomorrow. And then the damn door was opening again and someone was climbing in and it sounded like they were having some kind of fit. He slowly glanced over that direction. Law was pulling the door shut and then leaning back against the faded upholstery, laughing so hard he was gasping for breath. Dova had never seen him like this before, and he stared openly. Every time Law seemed to be getting himself under control, he would glance at Dova's pale, bloodless face and dissolve into further gales of laughter.

Dova tore his eyes away from this bizarre sight and glanced nervously over his shoulder to make sure there wasn't a twelve car pile-up back there. Then, with exquisite care that seemed to give Law further cause for merriment, he got the truck back onto the road. At least Law didn't seem upset. He threw his still laughing passenger a hostile look and turned on the radio. Finding a country station, he cranked the volume.

"Alright, alright, I give!" Law said, throwing up his hands.

Dova ignored him and slapped his hand when he reached for the volume. "Stop laughing."

Law managed to stop, and this time Dova let him turn the radio down. "Do you have any concept at all of what you just did? I could have been killed! The truck could have been destroyed! I'm probably going to lose my license!"

"Sorry, boss. Who'd've thought you'd be so jumpy?"

Dova sighed and decided that was probably about the best show of remorse he could hope for. "Glad to see you're in such high spirits. I hope they gave you breakfast, because we're not stopping. Gotta start saving to pay off that ticket that's gonna show up in the mail tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

Dova parked the truck in front of the house and headed for the bus stop. Law went inside. Dova wondered what he did in there all day while he and Milo were at work. Someday he would have to come home early just to make sure Law wasn't throwing darts at passers-by or something.

As the bus neared the pig processing plant where he worked, he thought idly about trying to get Law a job there. That way he could keep an eye on him, and if they could get the same shift there'd be that much less time Law would be left alone with Milo. And chopping up dead animals might appeal to him. Dova chided himself for that thought, but he was grinning.

It was almost 11:30. He'd have to work till 7:30 tonight, and what with showering and changing and catching the bus, he'd barely be home before 9pm. Hopefully Milo would have the sense to lie low. In a way, he was as temperamental as Law.

At 7pm, he took his break and called the house. No answer. Well, there were lots of good reasons for that. Milo was probably too busy to pick up. There were dishes to wash as he might even have taken some clothes to the Laundromat.

But that didn't really work. He'd done laundry the day before yesterday, and he would have answered the phone even if he was washing dishes. And what about Law? Why wasn't he answering if Milo was elsewhere? He knew what had really happened. Was probably happening right now, actually.

Dova made himself go back to work for the last fifteen minutes of the day. Then he deliberately took his time in the shower, making sure he got the stink of pigs and blood out of his hair. There was no point hurrying. It was already done, and maybe if he took his time Milo would be awake before he got back and they could all pretend it hadn't happened. That was how Milo preferred it, anyway. It wasn't like this was anything new. Getting beat unconscious every other week or so probably hurt like hell, but he'd be fine. Dova resolutely did not think of the long-term damage this might be doing. Had to be doing. Not gonna think about it. _Not your fault. You can't be there all the time. And if it really hurt that much, Milo wouldn't keep provoking him._

The scene he walked into a few minutes after 8:30 was a familiar one, and he resignedly picked up that day's paper from the kitchen counter and settled in his chair on the other side of the living room. "Shouldn't he be awake by now?" he ventured in a casual tone.

Law didn't answer, didn't even glance up.

Dova shrugged and started on the front page. Sometime later, he was pleased to hear Milo stirring, shifting around on the couch. Milo eyes settled on Law for a moment before flickering over to check if Dova was there. Then he lay back without a word.

A few seconds later, though, the silence was broken by a soft hiss as Milo drew back. "Damn sadist!"

And instead of ignoring the remark or appealing to Dova, Law slapped Milo hard across his already bruised cheek. "Hold still", he said in a strange, cold voice.

Milo looked quickly at Dova, then nodded and said softly, "Fine."

Feeling uneasy, Dova watched this exchange from his chair. Should he intervene? That had never happened before, and he could see Milo was scared. He could make Law back off. But for some reason this routine was important to Law. It stabilized him. If Dova interfered, he wasn't sure what the consequences might be.

He was responsible for them, and it was so hard to find the balance that resulted in the least harm to both. He often felt like he was doing a lousy job, especially where Milo was concerned, but he didn't know how to fix this. All he could do was keep it from getting worse.

So he caught Milo's eye and nodded before going back to his newspaper. Milo would do as he was told, and he didn't really want to see that scared, resigned look anymore.

Occasionally a quiet noise, not loud enough to be called a hiss, escaped Milo, but he stayed still and didn't say anything. Then Dova looked up in alarm, because Milo was saying, "What? What are ya doing?"

Law grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him up on the couch. Then he was roughly pulling off Milo's white T-shirt. He finished by grabbing the other man's throat and slamming him down onto his back. Shaking and gasping, Milo struggled under the grip on his neck. Law slapped him once, then again.

"Law! Let go of him! Milo, stop fighting!" Dova said sharply. Both of them froze. Then Law slowly removed his hand from Milo's throat. Milo instinctively started up, but he lay back at once. He was still shaking, and his fingers were clenched around the edges of the cushion in a white-knuckled grip.

Dova came over to the couch, pushed Law aside without looking at him, and knelt beside his brother. "You okay?"

"Yeah. He just startled me a little."

"Alright. Relax. I'm gonna be right over there."

He returned to his chair. "Go on, Law." And Law nodded expressionlessly and knelt next to the couch again. There were no further incidents, and when he finished Dova said to him, "Come help me find the take-out menus. I think it's gotten too late to cook something."

Once they were in the kitchen, Dova said, "Are ya happy now? He's gonna have bruises all over his throat tomorrow."

"I know", Law said.

"What the hell were you trying to accomplish, anyway? He wasn't giving you any trouble!"

"I know. He didn't do a damn thing ta deserve that."

"So, what? Is this your idea of fun or something?"

"No! I didn't mean ta do that stuff. He's just… He can be defiant without sayin' a word. And I was rememberin'…"

"Remembering what?"

"Nothing. Look, you're either in charge or you ain't, and if you ain't then anybody can do anything they want ta ya."

And it all clicked. Jail. He was talking about jail, and these were the consequences he and Milo had been so worried about the night before. How the hell was he supposed to talk Law out of this one?

"Not here. We're all free men." Law shrugged and turned to head back into the living room. Dova caught his shoulder and said, "Listen. I'm sorry about all that shit that happened to you-" He felt Law getting tense and gave him a little shake. "Are you listening? That was years ago, and it wasn't here. You don't have to keep proving you're in charge of him. You are, okay? He knows it, we all know it. Enough, alright?"

"Yeah, boss", he replied in his normal drawl. "Guess I got a little carried away. Won't happen again."

"Great, glad to hear it", Dova said, letting go of him. "Help me find those menus, okay?"

*******

That night Dova woke up around eleven to the sound of his bedroom door opening. He sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. "What's up?"

Milo peered around the door and then quickly stepped in and closed it behind him. He was agitated, and he began pacing back and forth. Dova watched him and tried to guess what might be wrong. Close as they were, they weren't the kind of siblings who generally shared things with each other; this was the first time he could remember Milo showing up in his bedroom in the middle of the night.

"Look", Milo said suddenly, stopping and addressing his words to the wall. "I didn't even say anything to him."

"I know. I was there. He was over-reacting because of the night in jail. He says it won't happen again."

"No, you're not listening to me! I didn't say anything to him before he started in on me. Before he beat me, okay? I didn't even look at him. I got no idea why he did it."

"Oh. Jeez, I'm sorry, Milo. I guess he was still pretty messed up about last night. He seemed okay after I talked to him, though. I don't think there's anything to worry about."

At that, Milo turned and stared at him for a long moment. Dova looked away, feeling uncomfortable and confused and guilty. Milo hunched his shoulders and turned away again.

"You're right. It's nothing. Heck, I've had worse. Sorry, Dova."

"Goodnight", Dova said, but Milo had already slipped out of the room and shut the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

The next evening, Dova came home to find an all too familiar scene. Frozen in the doorway, for a minute it seemed he must have gone through some malevolent time warp. Because this was another first for them: the first time Law had attacked Milo two days in a row. He always waited at least a week, usually more like two.

"For god's sake! What's wrong with you?" Dova said, hurrying over to the couch where his brother lay. Law moved aside wordlessly. He looked pale and shaken, but right now Dova didn't give a damn. "Milo? Come on, wake up!"

"I'm sorry", Law said tensely. "You gotta believe me, I swear I didn't mean to-"

"Shut up! Go get some warm water and a towel."

Law hurried off down the hall while Dova shook his brother's shoulder. He was breathing, but he wouldn't respond. He wouldn't wake up. "Sorry about this", Dova muttered, before taking Milo's hand and digging his nails into the palm. Milo's hand jerked a little in Dova's grip. Grimly, Dova dug in harder. He hoped he wasn't making things worse, but he had no idea what the proper way to wake an unconscious person might be.

Law returned and put the pan of water and a hand towel on the table before backing off a few steps. Dova ignored him. His fingernails had drawn blood before Milo opened his eyes.

"Hey", Dova said softly. "Stay awake, okay?" He sat back on his heels, at a loss for what to do or say next.

Milo pulled his hand away, laying his left arm across his chest.

"Say something", Dova said uneasily.

"Fine. What should I say?" Milo's voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Dova cleared his throat and, trying for a business-like tone, said, "Alright, let's get you cleaned up." Hesitating, he glanced automatically at Law, then away again. "Um, you okay to do this? Need any help?"

Milo's eyes had closed again, but just as Dova was reaching out to shake him he said hoarsely, "No. I'm alright. Going to my room."

Dova stepped back and watched anxiously as Milo struggled to get up. He wasn't moving the right arm at all, and his motions seemed jerky and uncoordinated.

"Boss-", Law started, and Dova held up a hand to silence him.

"Not now."

Once he was on his feet, Milo haltingly made his way across the room and down the hall. Mentally shaking himself, Dova grabbed the water and the towel and followed him. He set the items on Milo's night stand and turned to face his brother, who was bracing himself against the wall. "Are you sure you don't need help?"

"Yeah. Just wanna be alone, okay?"

"Alright. You rest. I'll bring you something to eat later. Everything's okay now, Milo."

Milo nodded. "You're right, Dova. Everything's fine."

It was a strange thing to say, and there was something wrong with his tone of voice. But what else was there to do? Dova left, shutting the door behind him.

Law was sitting against the wall in the living room, right where he had left him. Dova sat down a few feet away and said, "Explain."

"I should leave. Shouldn't I?"

Quickly losing patience, Dova said, "Maybe so. Now quit with the self-pitying bullshit and _explain_."

Law actually flinched a little. "I had a flashback", he murmured. "It wasn't Milo I was beating up. I mean, I didn't think it was. I swear, boss, I didn't see him. It was- it was someone else."

"Yeah? Who?"

"Jail. Someone from there."

Dova dropped his head into his hands, sighing. After a moment he spoke, without looking up. "I don't know what to do. I can't let you keep hurting Milo every night. But I can't always be here to keep an eye on things, either. Maybe you should see a shrink."

"I can't! They'll lock me up! Please, boss, I don't wanna be locked up again. Please."

"Don't beg", Dova said, his voice sharper than he intended. Wearily, he continued, "This isn't jail!"

"I know. Of course I know that." He sounded embarrassed and chagrined, now.

Dova was silent for a long moment. An idea had occurred to him. He didn't like it, but right now it seemed like the only chance he had of salvaging this. _Here goes…_

"Who's in charge, Law?"

Law looked up. Warily, he said, "What, boss?"

"Who's in charge?"

Law stared at him, something dark flickering in his gaze. Slowly, he replied, "You're in charge."

"That's right. Of you _and_ Milo. And if you touch him again without my permission, you're going to be very fucking sorry. Understand?"

"Yes, boss."

Dova stood up and regarded his troubled friend. He felt like the king of the jerks. Milo and Law were his only companions. But walking this tightrope everyday was exhausting. Unbidden, the thought that he couldn't do this much longer flitted across his mind.

Milo was right now lying on his bed, beaten and bloody, and he hadn't been able to prevent it. Hell, he hadn't even helped him get to his room afterward. Declaring that everything was fine, which must have sounded so stupid to Milo, he'd just left him there to deal with it as well as he could.

Now, here he was standing over Law, who sat pressed against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest, gazing at the floor. They'd never talked about it, but Dova hadn't been born yesterday. He knew damn well what had happened to Law in prison, even if he didn't have the details. But he'd gone ahead anyway and purposefully used that knowledge to dominate him and threaten him.

_What the hell was I supposed to do? It's not like they gave me much choice._

"Hey", he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "Go to bed, okay?"

Law obeyed him. He didn't look at him, and he didn't speak. He just obeyed. Dova watched him go and then went to Milo's room. He knocked softly and called, "You alright?"

An affirmative response came back. Dova debated getting drunk, decided it wasn't worth the hangover, and headed for bed. It was still early, but he didn't feel like eating or trying to watch TV. He didn't sleep well that night, constantly troubled by nightmares in which Law killed Milo over and over.


End file.
